


We Don't Have To Play With Fyre Anymore

by handlebarstiedtothestars



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ace Aziraphale - Freeform, Asexual, But it's understandable, Crowley is a tad angsty, Gen, Ineffable Partners, M/M, Oh look I found another one, Post-Ritz scene, ace crowley, ace version of the epilogue scene, he's been through a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20109856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/handlebarstiedtothestars/pseuds/handlebarstiedtothestars
Summary: Apparently 6 weeks ago I also wrote a short epilogue scene with ace angel and demon back at the bookshop after the Ritz at the very end. Crowley's quite anxious here, still pretty haunted, but then when is he ever not angsty and damaged, poor demon darling. This is pure fluff with sprinklings of Crowley's angst.





	We Don't Have To Play With Fyre Anymore

Crowley-as-Aziraphale gazed up and down the tornado of hellfire in front of him. His eyebrows raised and he pressed his lips together. _So this is how he would have… _He straightened his posture, pushing the emotion down, and looking with contempt at Gabriel and the other Archangels, trying to stay in character and hoping his expression passed for rebellious resignation and not murderous intent.

Later, in the park, feeling oddly uncomfortable back in his own lanky body, he listened to Aziraphale’s ecstatic account of his trial by holy water, laughing heartily at the idea of that smug arse Michael being ordered about. Perhaps Michael would be scared of him now. A wicked smile spread across Crowley’s face at the thought.

The Ritz was perfect, everything back to normal but somehow all the more vivid and pleasurable for the fact that it had been saved. The food tasted better, the wine richer, the lights seemed to twinkle around them. They strolled back to the Bentley in a daze, full of too much good food and alcohol. “Say!” Aziraphale blurted out, stopping in the middle of the street to grab Crowley’s arm. The demon turned, one eyebrow drunkenly raised, trying to get the glowing angel into focus. “Come and stay at mine,” the blurry glowing angel slurred, “After all, it would only be befitting given that you extended your hospitality to me last night.” Crowley swayed as he sauntered forwards, nodding and making an affirmative noise, “Hmm.”

“Crowley dear?”

“Hmm?”

“Best sober up before you… we… the car?”

“Ah, yes.”

The waiter clearing their table at the Ritz found two of the bottles left at the table of that eccentric couple who ate too much cake were still full and unopened. He shrugged, taking them back to the cellar.

Crowley’s mouth felt funny as they sped back across London. Aziraphale was still a little drunk, humming along to the music blasting too clearly from the tiny speakers. “You know, this bebop isn’t half bad, Crowley. I could get used to it.” Crowley smirked, gazing across at his friend, narrowly missing a pedestrian on a zebra crossing. Aziraphale jumped, clutching his chest and the dashboard, “THE ROAD, CROWLEY, THE R- W-WATCH THE ROAD!”

Aziraphale floated into his restored bookshop, gazing around in alcohol-magnified awe, admiring the new additions to his shelves which Adam had left, perhaps as a thank you, perhaps simply out of personal preference. There was no evidence of the fire at all, Crowley thankfully observed, though he couldn’t help flashing back to it when he stood in particular parts of the shop. He moved into the back room and claimed one of the well-worn armchairs, trying to put the images of out of his mind.

“Tea?” Aziraphale called from another room.

“No,” Crowley called back, trying to get comfortable. Aziraphale appeared just as he had settled, carrying a teacup and saucer which he set down on the table next to the other armchair, sitting down and wiggling back until he was comfortable before reclaiming the hot drink. Crowley’s leg was dangling over the arm of his chair, and he wished now he had a cup because he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He removed his sunglasses and played with them absentmindedly, still gazing around the restored shop. Aziraphale sipped his tea. He placed the cup and saucer down quite abruptly, swallowing hard, “Oh dear, I never really asked you about Heaven!”

Crowley felt himself tense up, “What about it?”

“Well how did you get on?”

Crowley shrugged, closing and opening the arms of his sunglasses, “They thought I was you. I put the fear of… Hell or something… into them. They let me go.”

“And it _was _hellfire? Agnes Nutter was right?”

“Mmhmm,” Crowley replied, not looking up.

Aziraphale shivered, “What a horrible… I mean really, was it necessary for them to be so…” He shuddered again, making a disgusted noise. Crowley forced a small sympathetic smile and nodded, humming in agreement, but his head was full of flames now. Flames all around him in the bookshop, the tower of flames in heaven, the flames of his Bentley. He felt hotter, was it hotter in here?

“Did Gabriel say anything?” Aziraphale asked.

“Something about shut up and die.”

“Rude,” the angel said as he shuffled in his chair, straightening his waistcoat, his small lips pursed in annoyance. Crowley made the agreement noise again and unwound himself from the chair arm, standing to inspect the books on the nearest shelf. There was a wrong sort of feeling in his throat and mouth and eyes and chest and he was struggling to get his body to breathe. Not that he needed to, but he had become so accustomed to breathing that it felt odd not to do it.

Fingers slipped down his arm, stealing one hand away from his sunglasses. They squeezed, and the demon gasped air into his lungs. His amber eyes turned to meet bright ones, smiling up at him. The fingers of the hand in his brushed soft circles across his knuckles, as the angel held his gaze and said, “It must have been hard for you. Have I told you yet how grateful I am that you went in my place?”

Crowley tried to smirk, “No big deal really.” Then somewhat more seriously, “After all, you went in my place.”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. Using his leverage on Crowley’s hand, he pulled him a little closer and planted a chaste kiss on the demon’s cheek. “Come on,” he smiled, tugging the flushed demon away from the bookcase, “I have some new books to inventory, you can help.”


End file.
